


Not So Hidden Scars

by Thegayfren



Series: Little Secrets [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Geraskier, Geraskier Week, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier has PTSD, Jaskier is sad, M/M, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, angst is every where
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22755280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thegayfren/pseuds/Thegayfren
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier just being idiots honestly in the first part. Also poor Jaskier...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Little Secrets [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636789
Comments: 6
Kudos: 361





	Not So Hidden Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Sup Bitches! Jk, but anyways I wrote this for day 3 prompt of Geraskier Week. I hope y'all enjoy. Also graphic description of a panic attack...sorry.

Jaskier awoke with a start. Here they sat in the woods in their little makeshift camp. Jaskier was cold but he'd never say it, seeing as Geralt still slept. And Jaskier did not want anymore anger to be directed towards him than he already received.

He stood and dressed quickly. He removed the lovely top that he chose to sleep in, so that only one object was dirty and in need of a fix. He picked up his new one and admired it. It was a lovely rich purple and it several crystals up at the collar. This one was magnificent and he loved everything about it.

Normally he was unable to admire his clothes, not just because the White Wolf who slept next to him found it frivolous. It was because of the faint scars that littered his lower abdomen, back, legs, and arms. He stopped himself from going down that whole by shoving on the exotic garment.

After doing that he sat back down on his small mat and picked up his lute. Strumming he was struck with a song that his mother sang to him. He never spoke of those times, he stayed quite never uttering a peep. Geralt had tried several times to get anything out of him.

However, the path he led now was that of Jaskier, the flirt, the bard, the coward, the _human_. No one knew or ever heard of Julian, the prince, the slave, the _monster_.

Yet, he didn't stop himself from playing the old ancient tune that wrapped his head up and clenched his heart. The melody forcing him back into the past. Back into the screams. Back into the pain.

Jaskier became lost in the memories that he didn't even notice the tears coming from him eyes. He didn't noticed the lute falling from his lap. Nor did he notice the man next to him getting up.

What brought Jaskier back to reality was the tight grip on his knee grounding him and the low rumble of Geralt's voice. He couldn't hear what the man was saying, no notes yet. Eventually, he could smell the of leather, smoke, and a slight sweetness, all telling him that it was the Witcher-before-him's smell. Next he heard Geralt repeating, softer than expected, "Jaskier? Are you okay?"

The bard was finally able to mumble out a small "Yes" before he could see the world around him. Then he could see the concern on Geralt's face, though the man would never admit to caring. It warmed his heart and he smiled. With that Geralt stood and Jaskier was left with tear stains to clean off his face.

The bard was unsure whether he was upset or mad that Geralt didn't ask any about what happened. He wanted to get everything off his chest. He wanted to just scream the atrocities done to him. He also didn't dare speak of it. Too hard to bring it back up to the surface. He had purposely buried it far far down. And whether Destiny agreed otherwise to keeping his secrets he didn't care.

So they continued on. Jaskier flirted and got caught as often as possible and Geralt retained in his somewhat cold demeanor and occasional smiles.

That is how the duo found themselves in an inn one particularly cold night after a profitable hunt. Jaskier was against the headboard of the bed strumming his lute, when he felt the pull of that forbidden song again. This time he was able to strum it, but change it just enough so nothing too bad would be brought back to the surface.

This could not stop then nightmares however. When he laid down to sleep, he could feel the likelihood of a nightmare coming full force. But he still needed sleep. So, Jaskier signed his metaphorical death wish and drifted off.

* * *

Geralt found himself staring at the bard. The enigma which was him. Like many nightd before, he sat there pondering the truth of his companion's entire being.

The Witcher was dead set believing Jaskier was an elf, and that he used magic to thus hide himself. The past few weeks have been stressful and confusing. Being a man of semi-few words, he was still figuring out what to say to Jaskier. Because unlike the many times Jask had his night terrors, the bard remembered the _entire_ thing. Thus making the aftermath awkward...

Geralt went to pick up his sword when he heard the rustle of Jaskier. The man was tossing and turning and beginning to whimper. He huffed a sigh and tried to ignore it. He always tried, but _never_ succeeded, thankfully.

Geralt turned as Jaskier shot up. He was breathing heavily and clawing mindlessly at his neck. Tears were rolling down in a steady stream as he sobbed incoherent words. His eyes were shut closed, and he thrashed wildly on the bed.

Geralt made quick work of the situation like always. He calmly and carefully approached the man. He lowly and quietly stated, "Jask, you are safe and you are with me, Geralt."

It of course did nothing. So next, he sat on the bed and reached out for the bard. Jaskier began to kick at him, his hands never leaving his throat. Geralt just endured this part and he finally managed to get ahold of Jaskier.

He hugged him tightly and went to grab the hands desperately clawing at the throat. Geralt gently latched onto them and pulled them away. Jaskier resisted the entire time. The Witcher knew he just needed to push through. Once exhaustion hit, it went easier.

He brought the hands to his chest and setting them where his heart was. The slow beat of his heart usually helped the thrashing a bit.

Jaskier still sobbed, but not so loudly. It had quieted to hiccups, whines, and tears just falling from his eyes. Geralt's heart clenched tightly, and he had to restrain from getting tearful himself. Jaskier was _never_ supposed to look like this, but he unfortunately saw this more and more.

Jaskier curled in on himself as he continued to cry, no longer attempting to hurt himself. Geralt moved the hands from his chest moved Jaksier's head onto his chest. Luring himself back to sleep like a babe, using the heart beat to ground the man.

Geralt knew, always did, that in the morning Jaskier wouldn't remember what happened. He wouldn't know how _terrified_ Geralt was evertime this took place. They would just pack up and continue on. 

But in this moment Geralt let all his defenses fall. He let himself show his emotions and hug the man tight, scared he would never recover. Yet, Jaskier always bounced back because he _never_ remembered. Geralt was glad for that.

As Jaskier dozed back off, his chest rising uneasily from the early cries, Geralt also found himself dozing off with just a slight smile. 


End file.
